


in the midst of a brilliantly vulgar move

by jeien



Category: Hypnosis Mic, Hypnosis Microphone
Genre: Brothers, Gen, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 06:35:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13475769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeien/pseuds/jeien
Summary: Ichiro is called in to his old middle school after Saburo gets into a fight.





	in the midst of a brilliantly vulgar move

**Author's Note:**

> the title's based off a shogi proverb: 俗手に妙手があり // zokute ni myooshu ga ari // "a vulgar move may be brilliant."
> 
> also inspired by the fact that Amasaki Kouhei pretty much confirmed that Saburo would snap if anyone other than him insulted Jiro. and you know how much of a sucker I am for these three.

He hadn’t walked through these halls in about five years, yet his body still remembers the motions: the weird corner he needs to dodge as he rounds the front entrance, the number of strides it takes to get to the main office, the laugh he has to choke down seeing the receptionist’s face balk at the sight of him. _Down in the infirmary_ , she tells him. Unlike before, he at least has the courtesy to tell her thank you as he sets off to the other side of the ground floor.

Ichiro knocks before sliding the doors open. “Sorry for the intrusion.”

His former gym teacher stands his full two meters beside the infirmary bed where Saburo sits, sporting quite a few band-aids on his face.

“You know, I expected this from you,” Ofuda-sensei says, the disappointed frown forever embedded into his skin. It’s only been five years, but the man seems so much older than he remembers—a little closer to human than the juggernaut who would chase him down to go to class or quit picking fights by the field. “From Jiro, even. But Saburo?”

“You aren’t the only one,” Ichiro says in kind, walking over to his youngest brother. Saburo isn’t meeting his gaze as he crouches down in front of him. Band-aids aside, he’s got the makings of a bruise on his left cheek and a crack of blood on his lips, newly dried. “Damn, kiddo. Did you at least win?”

“ _Yamada_.”

“Kidding, kidding,” he says with a mild laugh, dismissing the teacher’s exasperated head shaking with a wave of his hand. Saburo _still_ wasn’t looking at him. He turns his head to look up at Ofuda-sensei for answers. “So what happened?”

“We found him and another student brawling in the hall,” Ofuda-sensei answers with a voice thick with gravel and cigarette smoke. “Apparently, he got egged on by the other guy, but even when he’s given all those schoolyard taunts, he never lashed out like this.”

“It’s _self-defense_ ,” Saburo finally says, the unspoken bite of _I’m right here_ trailing after his words. His voice is cracked, weak. “Check the cameras. He threw the first punch.”

“Yes, yes, you’ve said as much before.” Ofuda-sensei doesn’t look convinced. In all honesty, Ichiro isn’t really won over either. The two locks eyes and, for once, Ichiro feels a kind of mutual understanding with his former teacher that he never really had when he was in middle school. Maybe it’s because he’s the adult of the family now—because he’s playing parent to two teenage boys all on his own at the tender age of nineteen, when he had barely just managed to figure himself out. It’s that newfound responsibility that probably softens the furrowed brows on Ofuda-sensei’s face as he turns towards the door. “I’ll let you two talk it out. I’m going to go check the cameras.”

They both listen to the fading steps together: it takes eleven paces until words from inside the infirmary become an indistinguishable cotton ball of sound. Ichiro gets off from his haunches and sits beside his brother.

“You’ve got three seconds.”

Saburo’s lips open to retort, but Ichiro holds up one finger in front of him—it’s enough to make him sigh in resignation.

“He said something I didn’t like.”

His brothers are drastically different puzzles to solve when it comes to getting their secrets. Solving Jiro is playing a fighting game: his authority as the older brother coupled with the right stern expression and tone of voice usually does enough to make Jiro’s resolve crumble. Solving Saburo, on the other hand, is playing shogi: it needs patience, tactical maneuvering, and careful treading. Even though he looks up to Ichiro as much as Jiro does, Saburo is still protective of his secrets and thoughts. It always takes time and Ichiro has to admit he’s always out of his element when it happens.

“A lot of people say things you don’t like,” Ichiro says. He notices the minute change in Saburo’s posture, the slight tense of his shoulders. “What happened, Saburo? Tell me honestly.”

There’s mumbling.

“Saburo.”

“He talked shit about Jiro,” Saburo repeats, loud and clear.

Ichiro blinks. “Seriously?”

His youngest brother clicks his tongue and looks away again with a scowl. There’s a tell-tale dusting of pink across his cheeks that’s definitely from embarrassment. “Only I get to talk shit about Jiro. It’s my right. I won’t let anyone lower than me have that satisfaction.”

Ichiro can’t help but crack a smile. “I’m sure he’d be really happy if he heard you defended his honor like that.”

“God, no,” Saburo says, making a face. “He’d just throw a fit about how he needs to get stronger if he’s got middle school brats sticking up for him. We won’t hear the end of it for at least a week.”

Ichiro laughs and ruffles his Saburo’s hair. “Yeah, on second thought, you’re probably right.”  

 _So he does care_ , he thinks to himself as an amiable silence settles between them. Of course he would. Despite all the quarrels and arguments and competition, they’re still brothers. They’re still family. The three of them only have each other left, after all.

But they both have their pride. Ichiro understands and he’ll respect that—at least in this regard.

“Did the other kid really throw the first punch?” he asks, after a little while. Ofuda-sensei had always been really shitty with new technology; getting the playback from the camera feed must be pulling him through a loop.

His little brother lets out an indignant huff. “Of course he did. He was talking shit so I said something about his habit of picking up girls who cheat on him and let him blow the fuse. Do you really think I’m dumb enough to let myself get caught punching someone on camera?”

“I should’ve expected as much from our honor student,” Ichiro says as the doors slid open once more. Saburo’s still not quite off the hook, according to Ofuda-sensei, but the feed corroborated his story as much. They’ll talk about it more tomorrow.

Ichiro can always leave it to Saburo to have his shogi skills polished and three steps ahead. He’ll stick with what he knows and hope for the best moving forward.

**Author's Note:**

> lol now the shogi title makes sense
> 
> come scream with me at [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/jeienb)


End file.
